


Team Codes

by himynameisv



Category: Criminal Minds (US TV)
Genre: F/M, Gen, Team as Family
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-28
Updated: 2020-01-27
Packaged: 2021-03-09 03:48:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 26
Words: 19,883
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27008371
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/himynameisv/pseuds/himynameisv
Summary: Random one-shots detailing 26 codes for team emergencies.Originally posted on fanfiction.net.
Relationships: The BAU Team - Relationship
Comments: 2
Kudos: 57





	1. Code A - Anger

**Author's Note:**

> Hopefully, I can get to posting all 26 chapters here by the end of today. If you don't want to wait, click [here](https://www.fanfiction.net/s/13349156/1/Team-Codes) to go to the fanfiction.net version.

The moment Reid appeared on the computer screens, strapped to a chair, beaten and bruised, with blood running down the side of his head, Morgan felt it.

That stabbing feeling in his chest that he always tried to ignore but usually couldn't. He wanted to make Hankel suffer for what he was doing to Reid, make him suffer bad.

He couldn't help it. The anger was so overwhelming, it burst out of him.

"I wanna put this guy's head on a stick."

It seemed that nobody really reacted to that. Either they shared his intentions, or were too focused on the video to care. He figured it was the latter.

As soon as the video ended, he slammed his fist into the door and stormed out, fuming in anger.

It was a few minutes later that Hotch found Morgan outside, taking his anger out on anything he could find, namely the cabin walls, the ground, and a nearby tree. Morgan's anger had not gone unnoticed by him, and he wanted to resolve the problem as quickly as possible in order to focus on Reid.

Morgan was currently punching the crap out of the tree trunk, knuckles bloody from the action. Hotch wondered if he should've come out sooner.

Morgan, on the other hand, was glad for the alone time. He needed to vent his anger somewhere nobody was watching, judging. He knew punching the tree was pretty stupid of him, but he wasn't thinking very clearly at the moment and thought that this would make the anger go away.

It didn't.

So he resorted to kicking the dusty ground instead and yelling at the world. It wasn't fair, wasn't fair that Reid, of all the people on their team, had to be kidnapped. He was too young. Even if they got him back, Reid would never be the same again. All because of this bastard who didn't deserve to live.

That innocence Reid still possessed would be snuffed out, like a flame. And he could only watch from a screen as that happened. It wasn't fair; life was never fair.

The anger was consuming him. He barely registered Hotch behind him, calling his name and trying to get him to stop. He barely registered Hotch jogging back into the house after his failed attempts, yelling, "Code A!" He barely registered anything until a pair of soft hands appeared at his arms. Until a soft voice, one that could only belong to one person, said, "Oh, my Chocolate Adonis, what have you done to yourself?"

He honestly didn't know.

Garcia hadn't expected an answer. She just pulled Morgan into a hug, rubbing his back, saying, "We're gonna get Reid back, Morgan. We are. That's what we do, we'll defeat all the bad guys and go home and sleep. That's my plan. Ok?"

And that's how Morgan found the anger in himself ebbing away.


	2. Code B - Birthday

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow. I actually successfully linked something in the A/N of the last chapter. I'm - I'm actually so proud of myself.

As soon as the jet landed back at Quantico, Emily texted the entire team (except Reid, of course).

 **Emily** : CODE B

 **Rossi** : Who?

 **Emily** : Reid

 **Morgan** : knew I forgot something

 **Garcia** : Awww...how did we forget his b-day? :(

 **Hotch** : I remember a time when we completely forgot about it and never found out until the following year.

 **JJ** : How come we never forget any of our b-days?

 **Garcia** : Oh honey, that's bc Reid always remembers our b-days

 **Emily** : but never tells us about his

 **Rossi** : I feel bad now, when's the party? At my house?

 **Emily** : Maybe tmrw morning at work, should be a surprise.

 **JJ** : Yeah, he's been feeling down lately...

 **Hotch** : Ok, tomorrow, conference room, arrive early to set up.

 **Garcia** : I've got the cake! Can't believe my little G-man's already 30!

 **Morgan** : Don't forget presents!

Emily smiled, looking up from her phone. This was exactly what Reid needed to cheer himself up, especially after the case they just had. She couldn't wait to see the (hopefully) huge smile on his face when he realized what they had done for him.


	3. Code C - Coffee

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I just realized, am I spamming your fandom? I'm sorry.

Rossi came into the bullpen to a very concerning sight. He found JJ, Reid, Garcia, and Morgan staring at a spot on the counter, with horrified faces, not seeming to be aware of anything else in the room. Hotch was a few feet behind them, watching and shaking his head, as if to say, _Why do I put up with them again?_

Rossi had absolutely no idea what was going on and was extremely confused.

"Um, hello?" Rossi waved a hand in front of Reid's face, which was infinitely more horrified than the others' faces. "What happened? And what's so special about that counter? I've never seen you guys give it more than a second thought."

"It's a Code C! I repeat, a Code C!" JJ seemed to have snapped out of it. "Uh, the coffee maker's broken. We have no coffee! I'm gonna fall asleep at my desk!"

"Yeah," Morgan added. "No caffeine fix means I'm not going to be able to do paperwork today!"

"I. Need. My. Coffee!" Garcia said, with utmost desperation in her voice.

 _Damn it, Strauss_ , Rossi thought. He heard a sigh from behind him. He assumed it was from Hotch. He gave a sigh himself. They were just way too addicted to the stuff. If Reid were aware, he'd probably spout out some statistic about caffeine being one of the most addictive substances out there.

"Well," he told them, holding up his cup, "I already got mine on the way here. See you at your desks."

He was about to walk away when Morgan burst out with, "Can I have some?"

"Excuse me?" He shot back.

"Yeah, just a sip?" JJ begged.

Reid, finally aware, looked like he was about to just steal the cup, but was trying to restrain himself.

He heard a stifled laugh from behind him. _Hmph, Hotch is enjoying this._

It seemed the team leader had already gotten his coffee and had somehow hidden the fact from the rest of the team.

Rossi didn't really know what to do. You never stood between a profiler and their coffee, after all. Strauss should've known that.

"I gotcha!" A voice exclaimed.

Rossi turned to see Emily, arms full of coffee. _My savior_ , he thought, and sighed, this time in relief.

"I came early this morning-"

"Wait, wait, wait. You, Emily Prentiss, actually came to work early?" Rossi asked.

"Yes, of course! I saw that the coffee maker was missing, so I, as the best friend you could ever have, went and got you all of you coffee, knowing you'd need them."

"Oh, yes," JJ said, grabbing hers. She sipped and closed her eyes, savoring the flavor.

"Thanks, Princess," Morgan said, hurrying to his desk afterwards to get a head start on the huge pile of paperwork on his desk.

"Thank god," Rossi heard from behind him. He didn't turn around, but could picture Hotch looking up at the ceiling and sighing in relief, glad his team was finally back to normal.

Reid took his cup with a nod of thanks and a smile, and proceeded to pour a lot of sugar into the drink.

"Thank you, thank you, thank you!" Garcia exclaimed, giving Emily an energetic hug after drinking half the cup, and left to work at her lair.

"You're welcome," she said, addressing him and Hotch with a knowing, pointed look, and went to her desk. It seemed that she had gotten everyone coffee except for them, not that it was a problem because they already got coffee. Hotch and Rossi looked at each other.

"We're never trying that again," Hotch said as they walked to their respective offices. "Strauss should've known that wasn't the best way to lower the bureau's coffee fees."

Rossi nodded, agreeing. He decided he should return the coffee maker, which was hidden in a cabinet in his office, to its rightful place, after everyone had gone home.

"So how did Emily know about us being responsible for that meltdown fiasco?" He asked.

"First of all, it was Strauss's fault for ordering us to do that," Hotch replied. "And, the answer to your question is that she worked deep undercover. What do you expect?"

Rossi had to admit. He had a point.


	4. Code D - Down

_Ouch! Damn it, that hurt. What happened?_

She hissed in pain. It radiated from her abdomen and she could feel a warm substance flowing from the wound, something that could only be the red crimson of blood.

She hated that color.

She barely registered falling to the ground. She barely registered the words coming out of Doyle's mouth. She barely registered him leaving afterwards to who-knows-where. Only a few days later would she piece out what he had said. But at the moment everything sounded fuzzy and muffled, like she was underwater. Had she been swimming? Was she in a pool?

No, no. That wasn't right.

* * *

Morgan hurriedly searched the place for Emily, his teammate, his best friend. He knew it would completely devastate him if he found her dead, her body cold from whatever tortures she had endured. Or worse, still warm, dead just seconds earlier. He didn't want to be too late. He didn't want to fail. He didn't want to lose her.

What he wanted to do, was think about what he would do if he found Doyle. That terrorist deserved all that was coming for him. He wasn't sure even Hotch could hold himself back if he encountered Doyle.

He wasn't panicking at the prospect of losing Emily. Not yet, at least. He was eerily calm, which could only mean a Code A was on its way, but he tried to push down the anger. For now.

As soon as Doyle was in his sights, he would let loose all of it, all of the anger and desperation of the last few days. He only wondered if Doyle would survive the altercation.

He entered one of the last rooms they hadn't already checked and found a sight he would never forget. Emily Prentiss. On the ground. A pool of blood surrounding her body. What looked like a stake driven into her stomach (later, he'd find out that it was a table leg; the fact that she died because of something so common, so regular, didn't make the scene any less horrifying).

He immediately rushed to her side.

* * *

Hadn't she been winning? She could've sworn she'd had the upper hand on Doyle, but the blood everywhere was proof that she had lost. Terribly. All she could remember was hitting him, over and over again. He had been on the ground. Oh, how the tables had turned.

The memories after that had been pretty blurry, the only thing clear being the blinding pain. She laid there, looking at the ceiling, hands on her wound, wondering if this was the last sight she would see before dying.

Dying so, so alone.

* * *

He gently moved her hands out of the way and pressed down on the wound with his own. There was so much blood. So much. His hands and pants were already wet with it. The anger that had been nearly consuming him earlier gave in to dread as he tried to save Emily.

He looked around. Nobody else seemed to be in the room. Doyle had gotten away. He was lucky. If Morgan had gotten his hands on him, who knew what would've happened?

There seemed to have been a fight in the room, though, a clear sign of struggle from the broken table and the other knocked over things in the room. _That's my girl_ , he thought. Emily wouldn't have gone down without a fight. He swelled with pride, before remembering the state she was in.

He wouldn't admit it, but he was scared. So very scared.

"Code D! It's a Code D!" He screamed into his earpiece. He silently cursed himself because the people with him were basically all SWAT and the codes were only known by the team.

"Call an ambulance! Get a medic!" He went with instead. Morgan's panic was slowly rising. She didn't seem to be responding to anything.

* * *

Emily belatedly realised that there was a blurry figure above her, putting pressure on her wounds. She would've sighed in relief if she hadn't been dying at the moment. _Morgan! It's Morgan! I won't die alone!_

She immediately reprimanded herself. _No, silly. You're gonna fight through this. Don't give Doyle the satisfaction of dying. Fight for the team, fight for Morgan._

And she tried, she really did. But her eyelids were getting heavy and she finally had to give in and close her eyes. She heard Morgan calling for her, begging her to open her eyes, but it sounded so much farther away now than it did earlier. She couldn't seem to open her eyes, so she opted to squeeze his hand instead after he told her to do so.

 _See, I'm still conscious, I'm still here._ She held on for a few seconds longer before realising that it was inevitable. The fight was just too much, and her body needed to rest. _Well, at least I tried_ , she thought. _I'll have the satisfaction that I did try. Doyle couldn't take that away from me._

So, after accepting the looming darkness, she squeezed Morgan's hand as hard as her body and waning strength could allow. _I'm_ sorry, it said. _For leaving you like this. But I'll fight until my last breath. I'll try my hardest. I won't leave you guys._

She finally fell unconscious, entering the realm of unawareness and welcoming the darkness. And oh, how cold it was.


	5. Code E - Erin Strauss

"She is just...so infuriating sometimes!"

Hotch was pacing around his office and venting his frustrations out to Rossi, not paying attention to the door. He'd regret that mistake soon enough.

He didn't even know why he was doing it. Rossi had just joined the team the week before, having memorized only a quarter of the team codes. If Hotch had wanted someone he could trust more, he would've went with Morgan, but here he was, complaining about Strauss while Rossi stood to the side.

Rossi probably thought he was a bit crazy. That wasn't a good impression on the newest member of the team.

"Did you know she sent Prentiss to basically spy on the team? Don't get me wrong, she is a valuable member of the team, but what Strauss did is unacceptable! We're lucky Prentiss had the right sense not to report to her."

Rossi merely nodded his head, deep in thought about his newfound discoveries surrounding the section chief.

This was the moment Hotch realised why he found himself letting his frustrations out to Rossi, of all people. Rossi wasn't new to the job, just new to the team. He was one of the founding fathers of the unit, and profiling as a whole, after all. Rossi didn't really need Hotch to lead him like the others did.

Because of that, Hotch could allow for his composure to slip when it was only Rossi, but not with anyone else. He couldn't afford to appear weak. He had to be strong for the team.

Hotch continued his rant, saying, "And she thinks the team isn't capable of doing this job, that the team isn't...in the right state of mind. I can't think of any other group of individuals who could do this. They are, by far, the most qualified people to do this job!"

He looked up to see that Rossi had visibly stiffened, with a slightly, just slightly, horrified expression on his face. _What did I say?_ He thought, before realising that Rossi was looking at a spot somewhere above his left shoulder, at somebody behind him.

They made eye contact, Rossi mouthing, 'Code E' before going back to his staring contest with the person behind him. _Uh oh._

That was one of the more easy-to-remember codes, probably because it was attached to the name of a certain person they all disliked.

He turned around.

"Section Chief Strauss, how are you today?"


	6. Code F - Family

"Spence, open up! I know you're in there! Please, open the door!"

No answer. She sighed.

Reid hadn't come to work and hadn't answered any of their calls. To say that the team was scared was an understatement. They were out of their minds with worry, their protective instinct of the youngest member of the team in full force.

Emily eventually told JJ to check up on him, and that was how she found herself there, outside his door. She had heard movement inside a minute ago, so she knew that someone, if not Reid, was in there.

After knocking again, with no results, she stooped down and grabbed the key from under the doormat. Reid really should have put it in a more secure place, but at the moment, she was just glad for a way in.

She opened the door.

The room was a mess. Couch cushions and pillows had been thrown around, books were everywhere, the lamp was knocked over. But the most concerning part were the streaks of blood that she saw.

"Spence?"

She heard movement from the bedroom, and a few moments later, Reid came out. She gasped. His left sleeve was red with blood, too much for this to have been an accident.

"Oh my god, what happened?" She asked, rushing to him and inspecting his arm.

"Um," he looked down. "Well, I must've accidentally cut myself when I was unboxing my new..." He trailed off when he saw the disbelieving glare JJ gave him.

"I can't spin this any other way, can I?" She shook her head.

After a few seconds of silence, her waiting for him to tell her what happened, him not knowing what to say, she whispered, "No secrets, remember?"

So he told her everything. It just spilled out of him, the years of pain too much for him to keep to himself.

JJ learned that his mom had hurt him that day. She wasn't sure what to think about that. Reid was quick to assure her that Diana hadn't meant to do it, it was just one of her bad days, but she still didn't know what to say. She knew Diana loved her son very much, and vice versa, but she couldn't imagine anything like this happening.

Reid also assured her that she hadn't hurt him that badly, although JJ was sure he was downplaying it. Now that she thought about it, she should've took care of his arm first, but it was too late now. He had already started talking, which was rare for him, and she didn't want to stop that and allow him the chance to close up again. He needed this. He also had that faraway look in his eyes that told JJ he was in a different place at the moment, stuck in his memories. He shouldn't be interrupted in this state.

Reid kept talking. That morning, she had woken up, and he instantly knew that it was going to be a bad day because of the look in her eyes, but he hadn't expected it to be that bad. It was so bad that he had completely forgotten to call Emily about taking the day off.

His mom had come out of the bathroom with a razor later that morning. She had thought he was a spy for the government, reporting all her actions. He had tried, he had tried so hard to convince her that he was her son! The one she loved dearly, the one that loved her almost as much as she did him...but she didn't listen. She never did, hence the mess in his apartment and his bleeding arm.

After that, she had been so exhausted she fell asleep. He had just been tucking the blankets around her, making her as comfortable as possible, when JJ had come in.

What he said after that made her concern for him spike to an unbearable point. _Oh, Spence._

Apparently, she'd done that before, throughout his childhood. Slapping him, hard. Slashing at him with a razor, knife, anything sharp she got her hands on. Pushing him into the walls, onto the floor. It was horrible.

But he was very adamant that she hadn't known what she was doing, hadn't been in control. She still loved him, it was just the schizophrenia (and now the Alzheimer's, too) that made it difficult for her to show it.

Every time she asked him how he got those injuries, he'd blame it on his clumsiness, hence his nickname, 'Crash'. Granted, he really was a klutz, so the excuse wasn't too far off.

She believed him every single time. He finished, finally looking at JJ.

"Spence," she said. "I'm so, so sorry. How did you survive that, as a child?"

He smiled, and it was genuine, she realised.

"Just the knowledge that she did love me, despite her illness. She'd say that to me every night when she was aware enough to do so, she still does now. She even did it when she was still at Bennington and we wrote each other letters. Always. That was enough for me."

She went to hug him, but when he winced, she pulled away and stated, firmly, "Let's look at that."

He complied, sitting on the couch while she unbuttoned his shirt and pulled it off, wincing when the cloth got stuck on his cuts.

"Oh," she said. "These will need stitches."

There were two long, deep cuts running down his arm. They seemed to have stopped bleeding, but that didn't hide the severity of it.

"Come on, let's go to the hospital. Grab a set of clothes to change into."

He knew not to argue with her, and went to get his clothes. She managed to tidy up his living room to an acceptable state during that time and they headed to her car.

"Hey, where's the private nurse you have for your mom?"

"She's coming a bit late today, in...10 minutes," he replied. "Some dentist appointment."

"Aren't they supposed to send another nurse when one is busy?"

"I thought it'd be too much of a hassle. One hour usually isn't too much for my mom."

"Wait, isn't it bad that we just left your mom alone after what she just did?"

"It's fine, she usually sleeps for a few hours after her episodes."

"Oh." The way he said that so nonchalantly made her worry for him even more, if that was possible.

When they got to the hospital and Reid was getting his stitches, JJ realised she hadn't reported back to Emily yet. The team was probably out of their minds with worry.

She called.

"Hey."

_"Hey, JJ. What's going on?"_

"Umm...it's a Code F, it's bad."

_"It's his mom, isn't it?"_

"Yeah. I'll give you the details later. Right now, I think he needs me."

_"Ok. Make sure he knows that we're all here for him."_

"I will."

She hung up and went over to Reid.

"Hey," she said.

"Thank you," he said. "For being there for me."

"No problem," she replied back. "We, the team, might not share the same blood, but we are family, and that's what family's for."


	7. Code G - Guilt

Guilt is a very interesting concept. Anyone even remotely involved in the event can feel guilt. Most of the time, they're not even at fault. Their minds trick them, make them believe that something, anything they did differently would've made a better outcome. They forget that whatever happened had already happened. They drown in the 'what ifs' of the situation.

That was most definitely the case for the members of the BAU when their youngest was abducted.

* * *

Guilt is distracting.

Gideon rushed to the bathroom, slamming the door shut. He didn't lock it, forgot to. He barely registered Garcia's cries from the computer room, or the rest of the team storming in to see what happened. They weren't going to like what they saw.

He started pacing around the tiny space, looking down at his clasped hands, muttering, "It's not your fault," like a mantra, trying to chase away the guilt that was overwhelming him. He knew the attempt was fruitless. Why shouldn't he be at fault? He was the one who demanded that Garcia shut down the video, that she do anything so that people wouldn't watch it as some form of sick entertainment.

Once again, he had put his desire to put away an unsub over the safety of his team.

Only later, after the case, would he realize that that wasn't the worst thing he had done. Reid, his team member, his protégé, someone he viewed almost like a son, had died. DIED! Died, as a direct result of his actions. And he hadn't isolated himself out of grief for the person who meant so much to him. No, he had done so out of guilt. There had been so much it had basically swallowed him whole.

The fact of the matter was that he had been too focused on the guilt to grieve. He didn't know if he deserved to view Reid as a son after that. After all, what kind of a father does that?

The guilt stayed with him for a while after that. It gained more strength after he left only a letter, a piece of flimsy paper, in explanation as to why he disappeared from their lives. In fact, it never really went away. He'd always be plagued with those questions, the ones he had no answer to.

_What if I had cared more? Would he have died?_

* * *

Guilt is unrelenting.

JJ watched as Morgan stormed away from her after their conversation had gone wrong. She sighed. Maybe it really was her fault.

She hadn't wanted to get him angry, she had just needed confirmation that it wasn't just her that blamed herself for Reid getting taken (abducted sounded too official; kidnapped sounded too personal, and Reid wasn't exactly a child, although all of them treated him as one; taken, taken just sounded like he'd be given back at any moment, and in one piece).

Well, she guessed that she got her confirmation. The guilt was crashing down on her now that she knew it was real and that she wasn't just being selfish. She felt tears start dripping down her face and set her coffee down to wipe them away with her hands.

She went outside, thinking the fresh air would help, but started choking up again when she remembered that Reid was stuck in some shack or basement or something. He wouldn't be able to feel the fresh air, wouldn't breathe it in with a smile on his face. She immediately went back inside the house after that.

She felt her eyes drooping, so she went to the couch to get some rest, as Hotch had ordered her to. As much as she wanted to work the case, she knew she wouldn't do any good in this state. She needed sleep. So, she laid down and was about to enter the world of dreams when she abruptly sat up. Reid wouldn't have a chance to properly sleep, to wake up feeling contented and well-rested. He wouldn't have a comfy couch to sleep on; he was shackled to a very uncomfortable looking chair that could easily tip over. He'd spend every moment in fear of what Hankel would do next. Deciding that sleep wasn't an option for her, she went to get her forgotten coffee from the kitchen.

The coffee had cooled down, but was still warm enough for her to drink, so she took the cup in both hands and took a sip. As soon as the bitterness reached her taste buds, she ran to the sink and spit it out, pouring the rest of it down the drain as well. Reid wouldn't have the chance to enjoy his favorite drink with copious amounts of sugar. She didn't deserve it, didn't deserve anything Reid didn't have at the moment. After all, it had been her fault Reid had been taken. If it hadn't been for her, none of this would've happened.

_What if I had gone after him? Would he be here right now?_

* * *

Guilt is confusing.

Morgan didn't know why he had snapped at JJ. Logically, he had to admit, it was her fault. But, as a friend, he should've been comforting her, telling her that no, it wasn't her fault, it was Hankel's...but he hadn't. Why would he do that?

This case was playing with all their emotions.

Maybe, he realised, he had been feeling the guilt as well and was all too happy to dump it all on JJ. Again, why would he do that? Well, whatever the reason, it hadn't worked. He still felt it. It was so damn relentless.

He didn't even know why he felt it. He sure wished that he'd been sent to the Hankel farm instead of Reid, but that wasn't guilt...was it? Wanting to switch places with someone? He sighed.

All he knew was that he felt it, felt it bad, and he'd do anything for Reid to come back right then and there, safe and unharmed. The chances of that happening were...well, not so great.

_What if I had been there instead of Reid? Would we be safe at home right now?_

* * *

Guilt is annoying.

He wasn't even close to the team, had only met them a few days prior. He didn't know them that well, yet he was feeling it, the suffocating feeling that he always associated with guilt. He'd felt it before (it wasn't pleasant), but never like this, with someone he didn't know personally.

It had started when he had run into the unit chief, Agent Hotchner, who asked, "Detective Farraday, do you have any new information?" He had just shook his head and saw the hopeless look in the agent's eyes as he walked away.

The kid was just so young, you know? Or, not kid, agent. The agent that had been kidnapped, Dr. Reid. He had the rest of his life to live for, and there he was, on the computer screen, suffering in a way nobody should have to.

So, there he was feeling guilty for someone he barely knew. Guilt didn't really work with rules, did it? Oh, and why does it always come with questions, ones that can never be answered? He hated the feeling, but at least it meant he was still human, unlike many of the people they caught for a living.

_What if I had come with that information about Hankel sooner? Would the case be finished by now?_

* * *

Guilt is overwhelming.

Hotch knew that the guilt was weighing him down, cracking his well-crafted image. And sometimes, even a team leader can break.

The guilt had overwhelmed all his mental defenses. He locked himself in the bathroom to get it back together, sliding down the door to squat down, head in hands, and tell himself that the team couldn't see him like this. They'd probably lose all hope if they did. He couldn't let that happen.

He stood up and went to the sink, washing his face with the cool water, then looking up to see himself in the cracked and dusty mirror. A broken man was all he saw.

He shouldn't have let JJ and Reid go. He was supposed to protect his team, after all. He should've made a better decision. JJ wasn't even a profiler and wasn't exactly trained for this stuff. He didn't doubt the blonde's ability, it was just that he thought sending a more experienced person, like Morgan, would've resulted in a different and better outcome. If only he'd done that. He sighed. Oh, and Reid. Well, he had to admit, Reid wasn't much physically, but he was still a valued member of the team for his mind.

And then there came even more guilt. They took advantage of his mind, didn't they? Great. More guilt is just what he needed, but it was true. Reid's mind helped them solve many cases, but when had he thought of teaching him how to deal with his emotions?

Never.

Sure, Reid had his own ways of dealing with them, but they weren't healthy. Blocking his emotions with facts and statistics meant that they were still there, building up until it was too much for him, and he broke down.

He'd be there when that happened, though. He'd help Reid through it, and based on the videos they had seen, it would happen very soon.

He looked up at the mirror again, and instead of finding a broken man, he found a determined one. The pain was still there, he could see it, in his eyes, but he couldn't do much about that. He straightened up, fixed his clothes, opened the door, and walked out. But the questions still lingered.

_What if I hadn't sent JJ and Reid to the farm? Would Reid be safe and sound right now?_

* * *

Guilt is frustrating.

Emily had always hated the feeling, the feeling of having failed in doing something, the feeling of guilt.

Sure, she hadn't exactly done anything wrong, she just wished she had been sent to the farm instead of Reid. She wished she had magic and could switch places with him. Or, better yet, she wished none of this had happened at all.

But wishing was useless, it never worked. When she was younger she wished for her parents to care more about her, she wished to stay in one place for more than a couple of months. But no. The wishes were always fruitless.

And now, the compartmentalization skills that she so valued weren't working either.

She knew that she was the newbie, and that the team didn't completely trust her yet, but she cared about all of them. Strauss had originally sent her in as her personal spy, but she knew she couldn't do it. Not after seeing them work together.

They probably wouldn't admit it, but they were closer than coworkers, than friends. They were family. They cared so much for each other, and this case was definitely evidence of that. And...that was what she had always longed for. A place that she belonged, where people actually cared about her. She knew she had to resign when Strauss eventually asked her to dish the dirt on the team. She wouldn't betray them.

So, now, her compartmentalising wasn't working because of her extreme loyalty for them. She didn't regret the loyalty one bit, and instead cursed her guilt for affecting her compartmentalization skills. She's worked deep cover with a terrorist! She should be able to do this, but she couldn't separate the case from the fact that one of their own was being held at an unknown location and hurting.

She took a deep breath. Maybe it was somehow her fault that Reid, their youngest, the one they automatically wanted to protect, had been taken. No, not taken. Abducted. This was a case and she had to focus. He was the...victim here, and if she didn't focus and compartmentalize, he could die.

Okay. Even if it was somehow her fault, she had to focus on the facts. Freaking out was not going to help Reid here.

So, she put the images and panic and guilt and everything else into her mental box and locked it up with heavy chains and everything and threw the key away.

She went back to looking at the files after that, but the questions were still there, in the back of her mind, persistent as ever and affecting her work. She hated guilt.

_What if I could switch places with Reid? Would this be happening?_

* * *

Guilt is painful.

Garcia learned that fact the second she realised she couldn't trace the video. So she just had to sit there, watching as her junior G-man was hurt over and over again.

The worst part was that she couldn't do anything about it. It hurt! It hurt her heart to seem him tortured and looking so scared. She wished she could just crawl into the screen and gather him up in her arms and tell him that it was going to be okay, that everything was going to work out.

But she couldn't.

With all her computer skills, she couldn't do anything to help him.

For once, she wished she was more than just the tech analyst. Sure, she was the goddess of all information, but she just wanted to do something. Anything! To help keep her baby boy safe.

But there she was, sitting before a computer screen, watching as he struggled for breath and died.

She barely heard her pained cries as the guilt consumed her. It couldn't get much worse than that.

_What if I could've done something? Would he still be broken?_

* * *

Guilt is cold.

Reid would've laughed out loud if it wasn't for the fact that he was strapped to a chair in an unknown location at the moment. Guilt didn't care who it attacked, did it?

It didn't care that he was in pain and was the victim. Nope. He had the guilt anyways.

Guilt for what, he didn't know, and he would've spent the rest of the time thinking about it had it not been for Tobias coming in and injecting him with the drugs. It made everything fuzzy and he couldn't think very clearly.

But the questions were still there, stuck in the back of his mind. Only later, after the withdrawals, would he realise what they were. He would always wonder, after that, why he cared so much about others, even when he was the one in the dire situation.

_What if I hadn't split up with JJ? Would she have gotten hurt?_

* * *

Guilt is unbearable.

Tobias couldn't deal with it; it was too much.

He had been too much of a coward to end it all, to kill the agent in the field, and now he was being hurt by his father. He should've done it. Death was better than this.

So, he dealt with it the only way he knew how, pulling out the two bottles and the needle out of his pocket. It would make it better, it always did. It made everything better. That was how he said 'sorry' to the agent, for not killing him when he had the chance, for letting him suffer through all of this.

But despite having resolved his guilt somewhat, the questions still lingered. And they stayed unanswered, will always stay that way. He stopped looking for the answers the moment he took his last breath, instead wondering about heaven and his mother.

His life ended, but the questions didn't.

_What if I had killed that agent? Would any of this have happened?_

* * *

Guilt is many things, but above all, it is something nobody likes to speak about. It was mentioned, but the conversation between JJ and Morgan went down the wrong path, and when JJ apologised to Reid, he just brushed it off.

Nobody actually confronted the guilt that time. So the words 'Code G' were never uttered.

But it's always there, just in case. Just in case the guilt becomes too much for one of them to bear on their own.


	8. Code H - Hostage

"Code H?!"

"Yeah, Code H."

Hotch was catching Garcia and Reid up on what happened in the last few minutes. Needless to say, Garcia was terrified. Reid, on the other hand, stayed quiet. Whether it was because he didn't know what to say or he was thinking about the possible consequences of their actions, Hotch was grateful for the lack of visible panic.

After Garcia got over her momentary panic, she started rambling.

"Is he gonna be okay? Is he hurt? Why did he go in there? Is he going to...die? Hotch! Answer me. How is Will?"

She took a deep breath, and then continued, "Sorry, sorry, I'm just worried is all."

"He'll be fine, Garcia," Reid said, though none of them could've known that at the time.

Hotch went along with it anyways to try to calm Garcia down, adding, "He's a detective, he knows what to do in these types of situations."

"But why did he have to go into the bank?"

"Well," Hotch sighed. "The bank robbers wanted him in there. They would've kept killing hostages until they had him, so we had no other choice."

"...he'll be fine," he added, almost as an afterthought.

"Oh my gosh, how is JJ?"

"She's...not happy that Will went in, to say the least. Morgan and Prentiss had to hold her back from just running in with him."

The three of them shared grim looks, and then Hotch left to get back to the rest of the team.

Reid went back to work, trying to block out his worries and help solve the case faster. Garcia sat for a little bit, staring off into space, working to regain her composure.

 _Please be okay, please be okay_ , she thought.

And that was when they heard the gunshots. Two.


	9. Code I - I'm Fine

"I'm fine!"

"I swear, Morgan. If you say that one more time, I'll smack you across the face!"

They had just finished a case and were working on the usual paperwork at the station. That is, Reid was dutifully filling out all the official forms and papers while Elle and Morgan were bickering and Gideon and Hotch were interrogating the unsub (now known as Martin West) for more evidence.

Overall, it was a pretty easy case. Martin had been killing women who looked like and reminded him of his ex. It hadn't been too hard to figure that out, but arresting him had been a _bit_ harder. They had eventually gotten him, but not before he gave Morgan a bunch of cuts and bruises from a brawl between the two.

"Morgan, we know it hurts," Reid said, looking up from the form he was filling out.

"No, no. I can handle it!" Morgan insisted.

"So, you're admitting that you do have pain?" Reid asked.

"No?"

Reid just chuckled and went back to the paperwork, knowing full well that Morgan was lying to keep his dignity intact.

"Where?" Elle asked, with that voice you knew you shouldn't argue with.

Morgan, knowing he was defeated, begrudgingly answered, "My ribs are probably bruised."

"Ouch," Reid said, hissing in sympathy.

Elle just started laughing, exclaiming, "Ha! The infamous Derek Morgan is complaining about how he got beat by someone! The loss hurts, doesn't it?"

Morgan sighed and countered back with, "See? This is why I didn't want to admit it! But, you gotta give me credit here. The guy does have a black belt in karate and trains at an MMA gym, daily!"

"He was still, like, half your size, though! It should've been easy to subdue him! Admit it, you're not as good as you claim to be."

"Not like you could've done better."

"Excuse me? I was the one who had to get him off of you! You're welcome, by the way. I never heard a 'thank you for saving my ass, Elle'. You should be more polite than that to your own teammate."

Morgan groaned.

"It wasn't that bad, alright? These," he gestured to his bruises, "don't hurt that much. I'm fine!" He realised his mistake too late.

"What did you say?" Elle raised her eyebrows.

"I take that back, I take that back! Ah, stop it! I'm sorry!"

He now had a fresh new bruise covering half his face (courtesy of Elle). She sat triumphantly beside him with a smirk on her face while Reid looked at the two of them, an amused expression on his face, no doubt questioning their sanity.

"I suggest you stop saying that, Morgan," he said.

"I noticed, kid."

Elle suddenly pulled out her phone and started calling someone. Morgan and Reid shared confused glances before turning their gaze to her once again.

_"Hotchner."_

"Hey! Are you guys done interrogating the guy yet?"

_"Yeah, he gave us a confession after we made it clear that he wasn't getting out of this mess. We're on our way back."_

"Code I."

_"_ _...what's Code I?"_

"New code! Morgan keeps saying 'I'm fine' and it's annoying the hell out of me."

_"Okay."_

"It's also not uncommon for the rest of the team to say 'I'm fine' too."

_"True. And, whenever they say that, we all know they're not fine."_

"Exactly!"

_"Okay. New code; I'll relay this to Gideon."_

They hung up.

"The hell was that for?! Why you tattling to Hotch?"

"'I'm fine' starts with an I, and we say it so much. Why not make it a team code?" She replied.

"Guess I can't argue with that," Morgan grumbled.

"So we have a Code I now?" Reid asked.

"Yup!" Elle said.

"Great!" Reid exclaimed. "Now we just need a Code F, Code J, Code L, Code N, Code O, Code Y, and Code Z! We have a lot of work to do."


	10. Code J - Jail

JJ couldn't believe it. Reid was in jail. Reid. Their Reid.

Out of all the people on the team, he was probably the one least likely to get into this type of trouble (well, except Garcia). Yet, here they were.

When she first heard it was a Code J, her first thought had been oh, Spence. But she'd at least still had hope that they'd get him out, like when Hotch had been arrested (though Reid's situation seemed infinitely worse somehow).

Now, though, it seemed like they'd never get him out. Scratch had just framed him that good.

She wished that, for once, the police would just believe them and let him out. He was innocent! They all knew that! But everything was pointing to him being guilty, just as Scratch had wanted.

For once, she lost faith in the system.

It was only after months of trying, over and over again, that they proved Reid's innocence.

The system had finally worked in their favor.

But not before Reid was beat up by some of the other prisoners he was with. She couldn't imagine what he felt, being in there. She wondered if he had lost faith in the system, like she had.

As soon as they could (which was the minute Emily told them they could), JJ, Luke, and Garcia had driven over to the prison to take him out of the hellhole.

JJ, she just wanted to get him out as soon as possible. She knew the nightmares would chase him out of there and haunt him for months (or years...hopefully not) to come. She resolved to help him through that.

Luke, she knew, wanted to see with his own two eyes that Reid was okay (at least physically). If he wasn't, she didn't know what Luke would do. He was definitely protective of the younger man. Not Morgan-protective, but a different kind. She'd find out later exactly what he did with Shaw. She didn't disapprove one bit.

Garcia simply wanted to be able to touch Reid again, inspect all his cuts and bruises, envelope him in a hug and not let go. She hadn't been able to do that for months, after all. She needed it. Needed to know her Junior G-man was okay.

Luke went 10 miles over the speed limit getting them there. When they stopped in front of the prison (which was pretty quick), Garcia turned to her and said, "Go get him, JJ."

And so she did.

She walked into the room and saw Reid. Hair disheveled, clothes rumpled, body tense like someone could attack him at any second (which was pretty plausible). He looked so, so lost.

She wondered if there was still any of that innocence, that childlike wonder, in him that she so adored. She wondered if prison had sucked all the life out of him. She wondered if he could ever heal from this.

"We're taking you home."


	11. Code K - Killed

It was a code they hoped would never be used. Unfortunately, with the profession they found themselves in, it was bound to happen eventually.

The first time it _could've_ been said, everyone was just too in shock to actually say it. They heard Garcia muttering, "He's dead, isn't he; he's not moving." And time stopped. Everyone immediately looked up at the screens to see their youngest on the ground, the chair having been tipped over. He was just so, so still.

They all unknowingly went to the first stage of grief: denial (except for Gideon, of course; he skipped the grief and went straight to guilt). They just couldn't accept that he had died. That he was gone from their lives forever. That the one time one of their own was in the hands of the unsub, they failed.

So they just continued to watch, to see what would happen, because that was all they could do. Watch. That hurt them more than ever.

It was after a minute or two that Hankel came back in and started CPR (a surprising sight, to say the least). Nobody was really aware that Hotch had called Gideon back into the room, their entire focus on the screens.

And then he breathed.

Their denial turned into relief as they let out the breaths they didn't know they had been holding.

* * *

The next time lasted a lot longer than a few minutes. It lasted six months. The death of Emily Prentiss hit everyone hard.

But the words 'Code K' were never said either.

JJ had consciously chosen not to. The codes were something unique to the team, something they always used when the situation presented itself (and when they remembered), something that brought them all closer together. Saying 'Code K' would've made it more real.

And it wasn't real, she knew that. Emily was currently in the exact same building they were in. Alive.

She knew it was selfish of her, but maybe, just maybe, her saying it differently would be a clue to the team that maybe things weren't exactly as it seemed. So she tried it.

"She never made it off the table."

They never saw through it, through her and her words, too wrapped up in their own grief to do so. Hotch did, at least. That was something.

In the next few months, the two of them would keep up the act and betray the trust of the team. All to protect Emily.

She wasn't sure at times, but eventually, she convinced herself that it was all worth it.

* * *

"Code K."

It broke Emily (even more) to hear that. She hadn't known if the rest of the team was okay. During the entirety of her abduction, when she could actually think, she had worried about them. The only thing she could do was hope that they were fine.

So, when she woke up in the hospital, the first thing she did was ask, "How's the rest of the team?" Reid's face said it all, and his whispered answer a few moments later only confirmed her dreaded suspicions.

She soon found out who it was that died and mentally sighed in relief, before feeling immensely guilty.

Logically, it did make sense, at least. He had been the newest agent, so he didn't have that much emotional value to her or the others yet.

Yet.

But if he had survived, he would've kept working with them. He would've become a valuable part of their team, an irreplaceable part of their family.

He had been taken away too soon.

If Scratch hadn't already been dead (and she hadn't already confirmed it with her own two eyes), she would've strangled him to death with her bare hands.

She felt grief, sure. But there would've been a lot more if it had been...JJ, or Reid.

She couldn't help the relief she felt. _Damn you, emotions_ , she thought.

So, to distract herself, she thought about the team codes. Why had they made the codes? She hadn't been there when they had, and she had never asked why. She had just accepted it as some sort of informal requirement to being a part of the team.

But she now knew that it was so much more.

There were probably multiple answers to the aforementioned question. It was convenient, a quick thing to say in emergencies, something special that only the team understood.

But there was one reason she thought of that stuck with her the most. The codes were just easy to say. So when the worst happens and you're speechless, all you have to say are two words and they'll understand. So when the worst happens and, in your despair, you don't know how to describe it, those two words will always be there for you to use to deliver news nobody ever wants to hear.


	12. Code L - Love

They were working on a case. Reid studied the map carefully, coming up with the basics of a geographical profile that he'd expand upon soon enough. Elle had gone on a coffee run for all of them because they _needed_ the caffeine. JJ was dealing with the hordes of reporters outside the police department, attempting to stay polite and civil, as a media liaison should be. Gideon was interviewing a witness in another office, hoping to gain some helpful information. Hotch was poring through stacks of files on potential suspects, wishing Reid were finished with his geographical profile so he could help.

And Morgan. Well, Morgan was _supposed_ to be helping Hotch with the files. He had been doing just that, but got a little sidetracked when he called Garcia for more information on a person.

Hotch cleared his throat.

"Oh, uh, sorry Baby Girl, I gotta go. Yeah, yeah, I know. I will _absolutely not_ forget you. I wouldn't be your Chocolate Thunder if I did! Bye."

Morgan hung up the call with a smile on his face and said, "Well, this guy, Marty Buchanan is unfortunately not our guy, 'cause he is currently across the country attending a friend's wedding."

He looked up to see one of Hotch's eyebrows raised and a not-so-discreet smirk on Reid's face as he focused on the map.

"What?"

Hotch simply replied, "Code L now stands for love."

"Come on, Hotch. You actually think that was love?" Morgan scoffed.

"Then what was it?" Hotch asked with an amused expression.

"Fun banter."

"And what's with the nicknames?"

"They're part of it."

Hotch just shook his head and looked at Reid, who had looked up at the confrontation. He realised that both Hotch and Morgan wanted him to support their side. He knew it was disastrous to choose one side over the other, especially on a topic he didn't know _that_ much about (even though he was technically a genius). So he raised both hands in the air, surrendering and saying, "Don't ask me! Do you really trust my judgment?"

Hotch looked at him for a second before apparently agreeing and going back to the files. Morgan looked at the wall across the table from him, shook his head a little, and apparently agreed as well. Although Reid meant for that to happen, his self-confidence lowered _just_ a tiny bit.

They worked in silence for a little bit, confrontation somehow over, until Reid asked, "Whether or not that was love, Code L is still official, right?"

"Yeah," Hotch replied, looking up.

"Let's hope we can call a Code L on you someday, kid. You need it," Morgan said.

Reid's face immediately turned red while Morgan chuckled. Even Hotch gave a small smile as he told all of them to get back to work.

Just then, Elle walked back into the room with coffee in hand and took a few seconds to process Reid's red-faced embarrassment and the smile gracing Hotch's usually emotionless face.

"What did I miss?"


	13. Code M - Missing

Code M is the worst code for them (well, aside from Code K).

The captives are usually subjected to unimaginable terrors that will haunt them for weeks, months, or even years to come. Every second that passes drains them of hope until there's none left. They never know what's going to happen next (though some may not want to). They are at the complete mercy of their abductor. Afterwards, when they see their scars, they are brought back to that time; they are reminded that they may have escaped their captor, but they can never fully escape their memories. And that's _if_ they actually survive the ordeal.

On the other side, the abductors have the control; they are the ones who decide if the victims survive or not. There are various reasons for torture, be it information or revenge. But, perhaps the worst reason is those who kill for the thrill of it. The thrill of hearing screams of pain. The thrill of seeing all the blood and gore. And there are almost always targets on their backs. Even if the victims' family and friends and the police don't know exactly where their target is, it's still there. So, in many circumstances, when they're eventually found, they're pronounced dead at the scene.

In cases like these, everyone thinks about the victims (and they should), but they usually forget about the victims' friends and family. Safe at home, they're seemingly not in danger (hopefully), but the waiting and the not knowing and the what ifs and the imagining nearly kills them. Many would do anything to switch places, to endure the tortures themselves...but they can't. So they just wait, losing hope every day. And the worst part is the helplessness, the fact that they can't do much to help. They know, at any moment, the fight could be lost; they could be too late, for once. But they don't accept it until it actually happens.

Code M is also the code that changes everything.

Reid was taken too young, his innocence tainted by what he had to endure. He'll always remember what happened, every single moment as clear as day in his mind. It's a curse of his mind he has to deal with.

A deadly vendetta nearly claimed Prentiss's life. Technically, it did for six months; those months were filled with guilt and pain. Faking her death cost a lot. The trust of her team, for one. She had somehow managed to worm her way into all their hearts, and then she just up and left in the worst way, in the way they all feared the most. What kind of friend would do that?

JJ's never going to be the same innocent media liaison she started out as again. She's seen too much, gone through too much, felt too much to go back. The flashbacks come all the time, and whenever they do, she just freezes up. That makes her weak. A lot of times, she wonders if maybe... _he_ (she was so weak she couldn't even say a fucking name) was right. Maybe she wouldn't survive this with herself still intact.

Morgan feels...insecure. He wonders if the same thing could happen again. He remembers how easy it was for them to subdue him (to be fair, they were professionals), how one moment he was fine and the next he was on the ground and everything blacked out. He was supposed to be the protector, the one saving the others (specifically Reid...and maybe Garcia). But that time, he was the one who needed to be saved. He wasn't sure he liked this new role.

Code M might spell out misery for the team, but what they always forget (or never knew in the first place) is that it also spells out a path of redemption.

Reid may have suffered too young, and he may never forget his ordeal, but he's better because of it. He can empathize with victims now, and a newfound insight on those with DID doesn't hurt. But, most importantly, he didn't succumb to the dilaudid. He was in the deep end for a while because of it, but he overcame his addiction (with help) and came out stronger. That's what matters.

Emily lost a part of herself during those months. She's not ashamed of the guilt, though. It shows that she cared. She's still not entirely sure if she deserves their forgiveness, or if she deserves them at all. But one day she'll accept it. One day she'll realise how vital she is to the team (ahem, _family_ ). She'll realise that she is not at all alone.

JJ's never going to be the same. But who is, when they go through something like this? It's only when she gains the courage and support from her team that she beats the trauma. Beats Askari. Beats anyone who's ever doubted her. Now she's a hardened, but more determined JJ; a stronger one. And she's not afraid to show it.

A lot was _almost_ taken from Morgan. His life, his sanity, his _family_. That was the tipping point. But he didn't lose; he didn't quit out of weakness. No, he quit out of love. Love that he can't, and may never, be able to define. He may not have beaten it in the expected way, but he did beat it. He wears that fact like a badge.

And through it all, they did it as a team.


	14. Code N - Nightmares

Hotch decided to go through his nightly rounds.

He always did this whenever they spent part of the night in the jet. A while ago, when he first started doing it, he tried to convince himself that it was just his natural protective instinct as the team leader, but he soon accepted that they had become something more to him. When Jack was born, he managed to define it as a slight paternal instinct for them.

It made him feel old.

But he did it anyways. Every single time, after everyone else had gone to sleep (he made sure of it), he went around the jet. Especially after particularly bad cases. He wanted to make sure that they were all okay, that he hadn't failed as the leader.

He looked up to the seat in front of him, where Rossi was slumped over, snoring loudly, but soundly. He seemed to be okay, but Hotch got up to get a pillow to put under his neck. If he didn't do that, he knew Rossi would be complaining about it later.

He went next to Reid, who was laying on the couch. Well, he was supposed to be, but had somehow rolled off of it and onto the ground without anyone's knowledge. That spoke to just how tired everyone was, especially Reid since he was still sleeping peacefully. Hotch gently picked him up, bridal style, and set him back on the couch. He also picked up Reid's blanket, which had also fallen to the ground, and spread it over the young agent. Hotch smiled slightly when the only thing Reid did was sigh and turn over in his sleep.

He went to Morgan and JJ afterwards. They were sitting side by side. JJ had apparently fallen asleep while doing paperwork; she was slumped forward, her head on top of the papers. Morgan was leaned back in his seat, headphones blaring music Hotch could hear from a few feet away. He tidied up all the folders, deciding against putting away the one her head was currently resting on. He didn't want to wake her. He also lowered the volume of Morgan's music. He'd probably blast out his eardrums one day.

Lastly, he went toward the other side of the plane where Emily was sitting. Alone. Hotch sighed. She had been acting pretty distant lately...probably because the one-year anniversary of her abduction by Doyle and her "death" were drawing near. But he wasn't about to wake her up to have a talk.

He was just about to go grab her a blanket when he realised there were tears streaming down her face.

"Emily?" he asked tentatively.

"Emily?" he repeated, reaching a hand out to touch her shoulder.

She immediately jerked away and started mumbling, "Stop! Stop. Don't hurt them. I'll do anything."

It was pretty clear to Hotch that she was having a nightmare.

"Emily. Emily!" He shook her, and kept doing so until she blinked awake.

"What?" she asked, disoriented.

"Are you okay?" he asked.

"No. Why would I be?" she replied bluntly.

"Okay...do you want to talk about it?" _Probably not._

"No." She then turned to stare out the window.

Hotch sighed. He knew not to push her, especially in this state, and that she would talk if she needed to. He trusted her to do that. But he also knew that, sometimes, people could break.

He walked away to get a blanket for her. She thanked him for it and, in reply, he gave her a nod, then left to get back to his seat, despite his worries. He knew that, _this time_ , he needed to give her space. But if it ever got worse, he'd talk it out with her, be the support she needed. He would never let her fall.

He wouldn't be able to forgive himself if he did.

He sat down and looked up to see Rossi's tired, but questioning eyes staring at him.

"Code N," he whispered, and the other man simply nodded.

After a few moments of silence, Rossi asked, "Is she okay?"

"She will be."


	15. Code O - Oh

"I have to warn you. It's a Code O," Rossi said before wheeling himself into Emily's hospital room.

Still standing outside, the trio just looked at each other with expressions of mild confusion (or extreme confusion, in Matt's case).

"What the heck does that mean?" he asked.

Tara replied, "It's one of the team codes."

"Is that some sort of requirement I wasn't aware of?"

"No," Luke said, "it's just something they do...or we do, I guess. What does it stand for again?"

"Oh," Tara stated.

"Like...the letter?" Luke asked, now more confused.

"No. The word O-H. You know, like _oh_ my god."

"What kind of codes are these?" Matt asked.

"Special ones," Tara replied, with a slight fondness in her voice.

Luke eventually voiced what they were all thinking. "What is _that_ supposed to mean? Some of the other codes I understand, like Code B or Code M, but this one? What is 'oh' supposed to signify?"

Luke and Matt both turned to look at Tara.

"What?" she asked.

"You've been with the team the longest out of the three of us," Matt replied, "so what does it mean?"

A few seconds of silence passed.

"...well?" Luke prompted.

Tara sighed. "I don't know."

Well, they were all stumped now.

"In my defense," she continued, "they've never used it in the time I've been here until now."

"Great...who wants to go in and find out?" Luke asked.

They took a few steps toward the entrance of the hospital room before Matt said, "Wait wait wait." They abruptly stopped. "What does Code M mean?"

"Well," Tara sadly said, "it stands for 'missing'."

Matt sighed, before saying, "Okay, then. I just, I heard Garcia saying it earlier and was wondering."

"Well now you know," Luke said, "but it's okay. Emily's fine. Scratch is dead. She's in that room right now, awake and talking, probably wanting to get the hell out of here."

Matt chuckled. "Yeah, that kind of sounds like her. Let's go in, huh? Find out what Code O is, hope it's not too bad."

The three of them finally walked into the hospital room and immediately stopped inside the doorway.

"Oh...wow..." Luke trailed off.

"Oh my goodness," Tara muttered, "she really went all out."

Matt was still staring, trying to process what he was seeing.

They didn't notice Rossi smirking, saying, "I warned them." They also didn't notice JJ and Emily having fits of laughter (with Emily nearly tearing out her stitches). Nor did they see Reid slumped over in a chair, exhaustion having apparently overtaken him so much his best buddy, coffee, couldn't keep him awake.

The only thing they _did_ see was Garcia's beaming smile...along with 10 rainbow colored balloons and five baskets of goodies and one bouquet of yellow daisies and the picture frame of the smiling team at Henry's birthday party that year and the pink and purple streamers hanging on the wall.

Luke, Tara, and Matt were pretty sure they knew what 'oh' meant then. And, needless to say, the hospital nurses weren't very happy.


	16. Code P - Prank

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This one's a pretty short one, but I think it's fine.

It was a typical morning at the office. After setting his things down and reveling in the fact that Strauss had taken sick leave (glancing into her office just to make sure), he decided to brew some coffee.

Even without a case, they still desperately needed it.

He passed the bullpen, greeting the rest of the team along the way, and went to the coffee maker. He was just about to open a cabinet to get the coffee grounds (like, he had his hand on the handle) when Morgan hurried over, visibly panicking for some reason. Hotch vaguely wondered if a serial killer had somehow snuck into the building. "Hotch Hotch Hotch," Morgan warned, "don't open that, Code-"

Unfortunately, Hotch had already been in the process of opening the cabinet. It was too late for Morgan to stop him. So, instead of being met with coffee grounds, Hotch was met with a burst of bright gold glitter. All. Over. His. Suit.

"-P!" Morgan finished with wide eyes.

Hotch turned torturously slow to glare at Morgan. After a moment, he sighed in frustration and tried to walk back to his office without getting the glitter everywhere. _The_ one _day Strauss isn't here_ , he thought.

"Morgan, Reid! My office! _Now!_ "

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, I guess it's up to you to imagine what happens next! :)
> 
> Anyways, yeah! Constructive criticism is always welcome.


	17. Code Q - Questions

She hates this code.

Not that other codes aren't bad. Some are the worst, like Code M and Code D (she doesn't know if those two codes together makes it a 'Code Doctor'; she has to check with the rest of the team on that). Code Q, though, is one she despises.

All the codes can apply to anyone on the team...except for this one (and Code R, but she doesn't want to think about that one). This code is just for her.

Whenever there are too many questions coming from the hungry wolves outside, Code Q comes in. She wonders each time whether the reporters have considered how the families of the victims are feeling, if they even feel an ounce of sympathy for them. She wonders if they know they're invading privacy or not. She wonders if they even care.

But, despite that, she pushes it all down and turns her face into a mask of professionalism and courtesy. And they buy it.

She gives them just enough information to keep them from being angry, but not enough to keep them satisfied. She gives them what they think they're looking for, but not any of the real juicy stuff that would give them a raise. She gives them just enough to warn the community about the serial killer lurking, but not too much that they'd all panic and leave the city in a rampage.

It's her own kind of profiling, one that only she knows and one she does like second nature. Damn any reporters who think they can beat her at it.

But, whenever Code Q is called, she's also reminded that she'd rather profile serial killers than reporters.

It may have something to do with the fact that people she passes when she goes shopping skirt around her, associating her face with serial killers and murder. It may have something to do with Henry recognizing her voice on the radio, listening to the things she says that no kid should hear. It also may have to do with some of the agents at work (not including her team, obviously) who don't believe she's worthy of being on the team. They think she's just a pretty face.

Whatever the reason, whenever the hordes of reporters have all left, she quickly returns to the real task at hand, accepting a cup of coffee from Reid, opening a folder from the stack in the middle of the table, writing notes on the board. She fits in seamlessly, and the team doesn't think any different of her because of her side duties.

That's the only good part about Code Q.


	18. Code R - Reid

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi again! So, if you haven't read the chapter title, this one's kinda Reid-centric. Kinda because he's not actually in it, it's just the others talking about him. Oh well, hopefully it isn't as terrible as it sounds. I also wanted something with the newer team, so this takes place after 14x01, just to let you know since it's not that clear at the beginning. And if you don't remember what episode it is (which would be a tragedy), it was the 300th episode that everyone was so hyped about. Please reid and review!

Occasionally, they found themselves in hospital waiting rooms. It was pretty much a guarantee in their line of work. That knowledge didn't make the experience much better, though.

Emily had gone to get coffee for all of them, needing something to do to distract herself (and wake everyone up). JJ was currently sitting in a chair, bent over with her elbows on her knees, jiggling her legs in anticipation for any news. Matt had taken to pacing around the slightly crowded room, and Luke was on the phone, trying to calm Garcia down, who was back at Quantico and desperately wanted to know what was going on. You could hear her worried voice from a few feet away. Rossi, probably the least worried (on the outside), was sitting across from JJ, reading a newspaper he had found there.

Reid, unfortunately, was the one who had gotten hurt and was getting medical attention because of it. They often found themselves in hospital waiting rooms because of him.

Luke finally finished the call (with a promise to Garcia that he'd update her when news came), and Emily came back with the coffee. And so they found themselves sitting in uncomfortable hospital waiting room chairs (it was like they _wanted_ them to leave), sipping coffee and occasionally glancing at the clock.

"So," Matt said, breaking the silence, "Why does Code R stand for Reid?"

"He gets hurt _way_ too much. We figured a code just for him would be convenient," Emily answered.

"And exactly how many times has he gotten hurt?" Tara asked, just _slightly_ concerned for her teammate's well-being.

"Well, let's see," Emily said in mock enthusiasm. "There's this, him getting beat up in jail, getting shot in the neck, and in the leg, too..."

Tara, Luke, and Matt stared at her in shock.

"Not that I wouldn't want him alive," Luke said, "but how the hell does someone survive getting shot in the neck?"

"He was lucky," JJ simply said, shrugging her shoulders.

"Extremely so," Tara muttered.

"Oh!" Emily continued. "Don't forget the time he contracted anthrax on a case!"

"Isn't that supposed to be classified?" Rossi asked.

"Let's forget I said that."

A nurse came into the room, and the team perked up, hoping it was for them, but they soon returned to their gloomy states after he didn't call out for Reid. A few seconds of silence passed as they all anxiously awaited for any news.

"Well, look on the bright side. Compared to all that, his injuries today don't seem _too_ bad," Matt said.

But nobody answered. It may have been true, but everybody remembered the moment Reid collapsed and fell unconscious, not even halfway to the ambulance. He would've fallen to the ground if he hadn't been leaning on JJ for support.

They didn't want to think about how close he had been to dying. How, if Emily hadn't shot Merva when she did, he probably wouldn't be alive.

So they didn't. They sat there and sipped their coffee, desperately thinking of other things. Paperwork, kids, significant others, parents, happy memories, other cases (if very desperate). _Anything._

"It used to stand for 'run'," JJ suddenly blurted out.

They all looked at her in interest (except for Emily, who already knew).

"Really?" Rossi asked, eyebrows raised.

"Yeah." JJ nodded. "Especially after Gideon's...thing. Bombs and explosions were kind of on the top of his list of things he never wanted to see again. So we made a code for it."

"Huh," Matt said, "why'd you change it?"

JJ laughed a little, some of the sadness leaving her eyes. "When Emily joined the team, she pointed out that, if there was a bomb that was gonna explode in a few seconds, would we _really_ take the time to say 'Code R', or would we just run out and yell at everyone to do the same in a huge, pathetic state of panic?"

Luke smirked. "Good point."

"Yeah," Tara said, "sounds like Emily."

Emily smiled at that comment.

And so they kept sitting there, talking more and having much lighter thoughts, until they learned that Reid would be fine. A concussion, a bunch of bruises, and a few cracked ribs was nothing he couldn't handle.

Unfortunately for him, the one thing he probably wouldn't be able to handle when he got back would be the wrath of the tech goddess Penelope Garcia. She could be dangerous when she wanted to.


	19. Code S - Sleep

Hotch sighed, looking around at the team.

They had been working for two days straight now...and they were getting nowhere. Sure, they had the witness statements, which all described a middle-aged white man bludgeoning young women using a crowbar. They also knew that the unsub lured his victims to secluded places through his powers of persuasion.

But, other than that, they had practically nothing. They couldn't find a connection between any of the victims, other than the fact that they were all killed within a month of one another. Nor could they figure out a possible motive for the unsub. They didn't even have a preliminary profile.

It also didn't help that they had just finished another case before flying off to this one. That had certainly put a toll on all of them.

Hotch glanced at his teammates again.

Rossi, to his credit, was doing a great job of pretending he was fine, but Hotch had noticed that it was taking him longer and longer to finish reading a page. Morgan, on the other hand, had taken to pacing around the room, hoping to give himself more energy and jog his brain in order to work on the case. JJ, somehow, was faring the best out of all of them, a stack of already read (and ruled out) files right beside her. He guessed months with a crying newborn who kept you up all night would help you stay awake longer. Unfortunately, Reid was barely keeping his eyes open, head resting on the table (which was already a concern in itself, considering his germaphobe tendencies) and reading the file from the side. Even with his remarkably fast reading, he was still going pretty slowly. Emily seemed as awake as JJ, if not more but that _probably_ had to do with the half-drained cup of coffee on the table beside her.

"Code S," he called out, decision having been made after he had examined ( _not_ profiled) everyone. They immediately perked up (well, some taking longer than usual).

"Come on, Hotch," Morgan protested, "we can't rest now! There's a killer to catch."

"Exactly," JJ added, "and we've got _nothing_."

"How are we supposed to sleep if-" Emily was interrupted by a particularly loud snore coming from Rossi.

They all turned to look at him, finding him slumped over in his seat, head facing the ceiling as it rested on the top of the chair. His arms rested limply by his sides and the file he was reading was still open on the table in front of him.

He let out another snore.

Hotch raised his eyebrows at them all, unable to hide the amused expression on his face.

Morgan immediately burst out laughing, with JJ attempting to shush him and Reid looking like he was planning some prank at the expense of Rossi. Emily was still looking at Rossi, apparently trying to wrap her mind around the fact that the renowned profiler and author had fallen asleep, in front of them, on a case.

"Well," Morgan said after calming down, "if Rossi can't stay awake, then we've got no chance. Night, guys." He walked out of the room, Reid quickly following after him. Hotch watched him animatedly explain something to Morgan, who laughed and put his arm around Reid's shoulders.

"Yeah, no, I'm not doing this tonight," Emily muttered. "See you in the morning, Hotch." She left the room as well, throwing her cup of coffee in the trash in the process.

He turned around to find JJ slowly, almost hesitantly, gathering up the files. She looked up. "Are you sure about this Hotch? I mean, these women..."

"Go back to the hotel, JJ," he said softly. "Us being in this state doesn't help them in one bit. We need the rest."

"Okay," JJ muttered, "see you in the morning, I guess." She gave him a small smile, took her jacket, and left the room.

Hotch was about to leave himself when a snore alerted him to a forgotten member of his team. He smiled and shook his head a little as he tapped Rossi on the shoulder to try and arouse him.

"What?" he asked groggily. "I'm trying to get my beauty sleep here; my old body can't take this much work."

Hotch chuckled. "We're all going back to the hotel to do just that...unless you want to get your beauty sleep here?"

"Nope, thank you very much. I don't need my back killing me in the morning."

And so they left the precinct.


	20. Code T - Tears

He looked down at his hands, tears blurring his eyes. They seemed to be shaking, or maybe his whole body was shaking...or maybe they weren't shaking at all. He wasn't sure about much right now.

He didn't even know how he had gotten to his apartment, hunched over on the couch with his elbows on his knees.

All he knew was that she was gone. He hadn't even gotten to see her for five minutes before she died. He hadn't even gotten to _touch_ her before she was taken away.

It was too much for him to take in, how life seemed to enjoy torturing him over and over again. Couldn't he get a damn break?

Apparently not.

A door opened in his apartment. He looked up, seeing Morgan coming from his bedroom (he didn't remember how Morgan got there, either) holding a few blankets in his arms. He vaguely remembered folding and placing them in his closet a few days ago, but didn't ask anything of it, just stared at Morgan through grief-filled eyes.

Morgan sighed, sitting down next to him and draping the blankets over his shoulders.

"You wanna talk, kid?" he asked hesitantly.

Reid tiredly shook his head, just wanting to curl up and forget everything (fat chance of that due to his eidetic memory). He sat back up, sinking back into the couch, and then leaned into Morgan when he put his arm around Reid.

The tears were still coming, but at least they weren't fat and ugly like earlier. He thought of that, logically, as an improvement. Less crying meant less grieving, which equates to emotional healing. It's something that makes sense, but then he was reminded of how he failed to save Maeve, how he was _so_ close, but failed miserably in convincing Diane that he really loved _her_.

Maeve had depended on him to save her, and guess who hadn't made it out alive? Maeve. And one of the last things he had said to her was that he didn't love her. He wasn't sure if he was allowed to stop grieving her after doing that.

He felt his throat close up again as another bout of tears overcame him. The guilt was suffocating, and he shrugged out of the blankets and Morgan's arm, just to try and get some air.

His breathing had quickened, and he needed more air, and everything was too much and too much and too SAD and his life was such a huge mess...

He was gasping for air now, seemingly not getting enough oxygen, and maybe he would die there, just give up on life completely. _That wouldn't be too bad_ , a dark part of his mind whispered, but he tried to ignore it.

Morgan immediately kneeled in front of him, entering Reid's line of sight. "Hey, hey hey hey, just breathe, kid. Breathe." Couldn't he see that he was _trying_?

He rubbed Reid's back with his hands, hoping to comfort him somehow. "Deep breaths, okay? Follow my breathing, hmm? Deep breath in, deep breath out...deep breath...that's it."

Eventually, when he seemed to be feeling better, he gave Morgan a shaky smile, who gave him one in return and returned to his previous position on the couch.

He didn't really remember what happened next, but he must've fallen asleep (he distantly remembered Morgan calling a Code T into his phone), because when he opened his eyes, he found himself under the blankets in his bed. He slowly got up, walking out of the room to check if Morgan was still there.

Instead of Morgan, he found Hotch.

Hotch looked up from the paperwork he was filling out. "Hey."

"Hey," he meant to say, but it came out more as a whisper.

"I know you don't feel like talking, but just listen, okay?" Hotch waited for a nod from Reid before continuing. "You might think you're alone in this, but you're not. If you need anyone to talk to, I'll be available any time. Or, even if you don't want to talk," Hotch gave him a meaningful look, "I'm still available. And if you need time off, then take it, take as much as you need."

Reid felt the tears filling his eyes again and wiped them away with his hand. Well, the one attached to the arm that hadn't been grazed by a bullet. He managed to give a small nod and a grief-filled smile before retreating back to his room and falling into a deep sleep, safe in the knowledge that his team would take care of him.


	21. Code U - Unsub

Emily hated going undercover. Ever since Doyle and all that messy stuff, she thought she had escaped it all. But _no_ , the FBI apparently did undercover too! Just once in a while...not that she was really going undercover right now. She just had to stay inconspicuous.

The whole team was having a stakeout at a local mall. Well, it would be a stakeout, if they knew who they were looking for.

They had a profile, though: a white male in his mid to late 30s, who was killing due to a want to prove something to someone, likely a son trying to prove to his father that he wasn't weak. He traveled to different public places, which created lots of fear, and stabbed five people at each place once in the abdomen. He was meticulous, planning out his path, his entry and his exit, _everything_ , except for who he targeted. He found those people once he was already inside; victims of opportunity. But he was becoming reckless and careless, the killing becoming more of an outlet of his anger than evidence of his abilities.

And that was why the team found themselves there, stationed at different places inside the building. Reid had somehow determined with absolute certainty that the unsub would strike there next (she never did understand geographical profiles).

She was currently acting like she wasn't paying attention to all her surroundings, acting like she really was there to shop for...what was she shopping for? She looked at her hand to see it flipping through a rack full of white blouses. Her subconscious had _definitely_ taken over. Doing this had almost seemed like second nature. She certainly wasn't undercover as a full-fledged person (like Lauren), but she was undercover as _someone_.

It sort of scared her that this part of her would never fade away.

She decided to push that thought away and focus on finding the unsub instead. Her insecurities could wait. The lives of the people couldn't. So she discreetly glanced around the store, and since she was right by the entrance to the store (as her subconscious had apparently planned), she glanced outside as well, to the people passing by. Nothing seemed wrong... _yet_ (her time at Interpol had taught her never to drop her guard; her time at the FBI had taught her never to tempt fate).

She heard Hotch through her earpiece. "Anyone caught sight of someone who _could_ be the unsub yet?"

"Nope," she replied, along with the others.

A few minutes of silence passed before Morgan broke it. "How's your ice cream, pretty boy?"

"It's cold and chocolate-flavored," Reid replied. "Unfortunately, without an unsub near it. How's it going with your flower shopping?"

"I'm going to be allergic to flowers after this. We've been here too long."

"It's only been 36 minutes, Morgan."

Emily chuckled softly at their banter. Going 'undercover' with a whole team was definitely better than being alone as Lauren...for a few months. She moved on to a row of purses sitting at the front of the store next to hers.

"Well, I don't know about you guys, but reading newspapers is kind of getting boring," Rossi said.

"You're not actually reading the newspaper, are you?" JJ asked.

"No, but I think the person at that pretzel store is getting suspicious of me. Nobody reads newspapers anymore, let alone for this long."

"Focus," Hotch deadpanned, but Emily could detect just a _hint_ of amusement in his voice.

"Easy for you to say," JJ muttered. "You're sipping coffee by a fountain. On the other hand, these dolls are creeping me out. Why would anyone stock _all the shelves_ with Barbie dolls? They're all staring at me."

She was about to make a snarky comment about dolls when someone caught her eye. A man, at the store across from hers, with a cap on and hands in his pockets, seeming to be critically observing the backpacks on display. He fit the suspect description from the witnesses, and his back was stiff, his body far from relaxed. She could almost see his hands shaking. And as an expert in body language, she deduced that this person was the one they were looking for.

She lifted a purse up, placing her wrist near her mouth in a casual way, and muttered into the mike that was there. "Code U. My 3 o'clock, school supplies store, red baseball cap, beige jacket. Doesn't seem to be about to kill anybody, but I'm keeping an eye on him."

"On my way," she heard Morgan say.

The salesperson, noticing her seemingly rapt attention on the purse, came by. "Do you need any assistance?"

Emily hated salespeople, but pretended not to. "Uh...how much would this cost?"

"That's $20."

"Yeah...that's too expensive for my taste. Thank you, anyways." She gave a polite, and fake, smile, and left, walking leisurely to the school supplies store and starting to riffle through the planners there, glancing at the man out of the corner of her eyes.

And that's when she noticed the knife.

He had it gripped in his right hand, knuckles going white with how hard he was holding it. She looked up at all the people in the store. It was nearing the start of the school year, and there were too many people, too many kids. She knew she had to take action.

She took out a random planner, pretending to take a picture of it to send to someone, and walked toward the cash registers as she did so, 'accidentally' knocking into his back in the process.

"Oof," she said, looking up at him. "Oh my gosh, I'm so sorry, I didn't mean to."

She chuckled a little, straightening out her clothes and continuing, pretending to not notice the knife. "Guess that's why they say no texting while driving...or walking. Bad influence on these kids here. Oh, were you looking at backpacks? My little cousin has that fluffy unicorn one, and she absolutely _adores_ it. Says it's her best friend now. I feel bad for her real best friend; she's got some real competition. And am I talking too much? My friends say I talk too much. I'm talking too much, aren't I?"

She stopped, looking at him for reassurance and seeing Morgan and Hotch watching them from outside the store.

"Umm..." he said, eyebrows raised. They had also figured out that he was not used to people talking casually, kindly, to him, and she had taken that to her advantage.

"Ha, it's okay," she said with a sheepish smile, "you probably think I'm weird now. I'm gonna just...go now." She took a few steps out of the store toward Hotch and Morgan.

"Wait!" he called out, jogging after her, desperate for a positive interaction with _someone_ , even if it was a total stranger.

And that was when Hotch and Morgan took action, raising their guns and shouting, "FBI! Put the knife down!" He had always been smart, and meticulous, so he knew that he had lost, dropping the knife and putting his hands, which were still shaking, in the air. He stared at her in open disbelief.

She felt a tiny pang of guilt, but brushed it away as she had after Doyle. They were bad guys; they needed to be taken down. And seeing the relieved faces of all the parents, she learned to embrace this side of her, this side that could conform to so many different kinds of people, this side that she had previously considered dark. If it helped save lives, then she'd live with it, and thrive doing so.


	22. Code V - Vest

Emily gasped as a few bullets slammed into her back, causing her to fall forwards with their force. _Thank goodness for that vest_ , she thought, though by the feel of it, she'd have some pretty impressive bruises.

She immediately moved behind a nearby car with a grunt of pain. The gunfire hadn't ceased, and she wondered where everyone else was (though they were probably wondering the same thing regarding her). She had been on the lookout at her post on the second floor of the parking garage when she had sensed danger. She probably shouldn't have started shooting the unsubs without any backup in sight, but it was _way_ too late now. _Bad idea_ , she chided herself. She had had only seconds to make the decision, hurriedly informing the team of what she about to do before running off toward the victim's screams.

 _"Emily, you good?"_ Morgan asked through the comms.

"Just peachy," she replied back with just enough snark to assure them that she was fine. Well, as fine as one can be when they're being shot at by a group of serial killers.

She peeked over the car and shot off a few more rounds, somehow managing to hit one of them in the shoulder. _Great. One down, six to go_ _. That's not too bad, right?_ She shifted, preparing to shoot again when there was suddenly shooting coming from her right. She looked to see her team hiding behind various columns and taking down all the unsubs without a second thought. If they hadn't been doing that to protect her, she would've thought they were serial killers themselves.

When the gunfire had ceased, she laboriously stood up again, leaning against the car (a car with a bunch of tiny bullet holes in it) for support. Sure, there was no blood, so she wasn't seriously hurt. But why did it _hurt_ so damn _much_?! She was fairly certain vests were supposed to protect you, not cause you more pain.

"Emily!" Reid ran toward her. "Are you hurt? We were so worried when we realized you weren't where you were supposed to be."

"Just a Code V," Emily said, trying to reassure him. "That...was probably not the greatest decision of my life."

She watched as Rossi and Morgan handcuffed everyone while JJ called for ambulances and Hotch checked on the victim: a young girl of about 20. She was unconscious, blood covering her abdomen from multiple stab wounds. It wasn't a pretty sight. She held her breath as Hotch felt for her pulse. After a few seconds, he looked up at her and said, "She's alive, but barely."

And she felt that she could breathe again. Well, the bullets were kind of hindering her breathing and her bruises were throbbing, but if that's all she had to endure to save this one victim (out of the 15 that had already died), then it was worth it.

She didn't miss JJ's concerned looks or Rossi's scrutiny, nor did she miss Hotch's blatant disapproval of her actions.

Internally, she laughed nervously. She'd have to deal with those things later.


	23. Code W - Walls

Luke sighed as he watched the medic tend to Reid at the back of the ambulance. At first glance, it wasn't that bad: he had a few shallow cuts on his left arm (unfortunately, from a young girl slashing at him with her knife). But, if someone took the time to look more closely (someone like a profiler, perhaps), they'd notice his hunched back, almost like he had the weight of the world on his shoulders and had just given up on keeping them up. They'd notice his eyes, vaguely looking at the medic's work, but mostly blank, carefully void of emotion. They'd notice the tears in them that he had refused to let fall.

He had to admit that Reid was doing a very good job of _seeming_ to be okay, in masking all his pain (and oh, there was _so much_ that Luke just wanted to wrap him in bubble wrap, lock him up, and never let him witness the horrors of the world again; great, he sounded like Garcia now). But really, when had that facade ever fooled him and the rest of the team?

They had been called in to deal with a series of murders in Albany, in which witnesses had described teenagers, and sometimes children, murdering random people in broad daylight. Some had escaped the police, some had not, and one was dead after being shot by a policeman. In each instance, the victims had had their throats slashed and had died in a few moments.

It was a truly horrifying thought: children, usually the most innocent of them all, becoming cold-blooded killers.

* * *

They had quickly deduced that these acts were meant to incite public fear, and that there must've been somebody in charge, someone controlling them all. Eventually, they had found the man responsible and had arrested him inside the very house where he had continually drugged the children and influenced them into abiding by his will. In the basement, they had found fourteen children chained to the ground. Their nightmares would soon be over...except for one.

A sixteen-year-old girl who now went by the name, 'Soldier 5' (but whose real name was Leja Stewart), had found her way to the kitchen. She had grabbed a hold of a knife when she heard her leader being subdued by the police. She had wanted to defend him; after all, he had given her food and housing, had taught her that the rest of the world was cruel. Who was she to argue with that? Who was she to dispute that when this was the only life she had ever known? If he was right, why shouldn't she defend him?

She killed the first policeman who encountered her.

The second one had been stabbed in the chest, at her mercy as she held the knife to his throat, hands shaking and occasionally nicking his skin.

Reid had been the one to find her next, who had begged and pleaded and _tried_ so hard to get her to see the truth. He hadn't admitted that, deep down, he knew it was hopeless. He could see it in her eyes: the desperation she had to survive, the slight fuzziness that conveyed her drug-addled state, the conviction that she felt. After all, the unsub had kidnapped her when she was nine. It is hard to break seven years' worth of brainwashing. Given time, maybe they could have brought her back.

But there had been no time.

Reid had cautiously walked up to her, hands up in a placating gesture, gun long ago discarded. He had tried to break through to the girl underneath. The scared one who had had good parents, both of them, who had loved her with all their hearts, who had spoiled her with cuddles and trips to the park before she was abruptly taken from their lives.

And the spell had broken.

She didn't really remember her parents, especially not with the drugs coursing through her veins. The unsub had been the only parent she knew.

She lashed out at Reid, not exactly in anger, but in all the complicated and mixed-up emotions she felt. He had been only a foot away; he hadn't stood a chance. Before he knew it, he felt a sharp, stinging pain on his arm. He didn't look down until he had managed to take the knife away from her.

Only then did he notice the blood, the red on his shirtsleeve, watching as it spread and flowed down his arm. He glanced at Leja, hoping to see some emotion, some sign of remorse.

He was only met by a resigned look and hard eyes as she got another knife out of her pocket (of _course_ she had another knife), and used it to slash her own throat.

She died in his arms.

* * *

And now he was being treated, when it should've been _her_ getting medical attention. It should've been _her_ who made it out of the house alive, who hadn't done a bad thing in her life ( _unlike himself_ , he bitterly thought). Who deserved a _life_.

One that was filled with hope. One filled with giggles and hugs and love and _happiness_. One that wasn't shadowed by cruel people who drugged and controlled her.

He wondered if she'd get that in heaven.

* * *

The medic was finished now, and Luke noted how Reid barely noticed that she had walked away to pack things up.

"You wanna go back to the hotel?"

Reid didn't even glance at him. "Just...give me a minute."

Luke took a seat next to him, staring at the setting sun and waiting a few moments before saying, "You don't look fine." It wasn't a question.

Reid looked at him, giving him an almost perfect mask of confusion. "Do you mean this?" He gestured to his arm. "That's nothing. It didn't even need stitches."

He almost growled in frustration. "You know what I mean, Reid."

"Well, I don't think anyone would be okay if a kid just killed herself right in front of them." He shrugged, then stood up. "We better get going. Everyone's already left."

"Sit _down_ ," Luke muttered as he tugged Reid's (uninjured) arm.

Reid sat and scowled. "What do you want me to say?"

"I don't _want_ you to necessarily say anything. I just want you to know that the whole team's here for you, if you need us. But, you never get it." Luke laughed mirthlessly. "Every time something like this happens, you put up these shields and act like nothing happened."

"But, I-"

"It's no use denying it. We're _profilers_ , Reid. You think we don't notice? Now, I haven't been here as long as the others, but I've been here long enough to notice this trend. I've _also_ been here long enough to know that there's a certain Code W that is completely tailored to this situation. If you want, I can tell everyone else and you'll have to face all of us at once, _including_ the scary goddess that is Garcia. That would be really overwhelming, so I'd rather you talk to me here and now so I can just _help_ you. That's all I want, Reid." Truthfully, it was much more than that. He wanted to prevent Reid from ever being hurt again, but he doubt that could happen.

Reid stared at him with thinly veiled surprise. "Why...why do you care so _much_?" He whispered. "It's my problem, mine alone, and you guys just keep trying to break down the defenses I've tried so hard to build up." He shook his head and looked down at his clasped, and bloody, hands. "My burdens aren't yours to carry, and yet you do it anyways. I don't deserve any of you."

"Hey, look at me." Reid met his eyes with his own, tear-filled ones. It was certainly a better sight than before, though. Instead of emptiness, they held a wide expanse of emotions that Luke couldn't even begin to unravel. "You're one of the best people I've ever known. We'd do anything to help you. Forget friends, we're your _family_."

And Reid smiled. _Smiled_. A small one, but a real one. One that didn't quite reach his eyes, but still managed to convey his gratefulness.

For now, that was all that mattered.


	24. Code X - X-Ray

JJ had wanted to check on Will after the Code X, and Rossi had figured the two lovebirds needed some privacy. So Henry had been temporarily left in his care.

He looked down at the blond-haired toddler staring at the door, where his mom had left the room. Rossi chalked that up to the basic needs of a child, though there was something more he felt was in Henry's face.

He sighed. Sometimes, children were the hardest to read. Their minds didn't work like adults' did.

"So Henry, are you hungry?" _Kids were always hungry, right?_

Henry immediately perked up, smiled, and nodded his head vigorously. Rossi couldn't help but smile too.

They walked to the bakery across the street, and Rossi let him pick whatever he wanted (with limits, of course). He watched as Henry picked a pack of blue- and green- frosted sugar cookies for himself _(please don't kill me, JJ)_ , a bunch of brownies and lemon-flavored cookies for his parents, colorful flower-shaped shortbread cookies for 'Auntie Pen', and a huge chocolate cupcake with chocolate frosting for 'Uncle Spence' (along with a chocolate bunny; he hoped that Reid would teach him how to make it disappear). He declined when Henry tried to get him chocolate chip cookies, opting for a cup of coffee instead.

He payed for it all (he did have a lot of money to spend), and they sat on a bench outside to consume their delectables.

"Uncle Dave?" He turned to see Henry's adorable expression of confusion.

"Yes, Henry?"

"There was bad lady in house."

Rossi sighed. "Yes, there was." He had hoped to avoid the topic, but he should've known it was inevitable. The kid did see the ordeal, after all.

"But Daddy said it was 'nother Auntie."

"Well," Rossi tried to explain to the toddler, "he didn't want you to get hurt."

Henry's eyes widened. "Bad lady want to hurt me?"

"Yes, but you're safe now."

"Mommy and Daddy hurt?"

"Well...Daddy's arm got hurt a bit, but he's fine now."

"Daddy lie. Lying's bad."

"Usually, it is, but not if you're trying to protect someone."

Henry nodded in comprehension, and Rossi was about to drop the topic when he asked, "Mommy pwotect?"

Rossi smiled. "Yeah, your mommy fought the bad lady, and we put her in prison."

"Mommy and Daddy bwave!" Henry declared, arms up in a superhero pose.

Rossi couldn't help but chuckle. "Yeah. They're some of the bravest people I know."

He leaned down to pick up the bag of goodies. "Now, you ready to go back and find Mommy and Daddy?"

"Yes!"

On the walk in, Rossi congratulated himself for preserving the child's innocence a while longer. He looked down at Henry, who was holding his hand. The toddler was still smiling, mind on how to give his parents their surprises and eyes alight with a familiar mischief.

They stopped at the entrance to the hospital room, where Rossi _just_ managed to hear what he hoped was a marriage proposal.

When JJ said _Yes!_ almost as enthusiastically as Henry had earlier, he took his phone out of his pocket. Young eyes followed his movements and looked up at him in innocent confusion.


	25. Code Y - Youth

It's quiet on the plane today.

Not completely quiet, but close enough to it that it's disturbing, to an extent. Yet, nobody makes a move or sound to break it; not even to call a Code Y, for the situation desperately calls for it.

But, if one took the time and effort to listen and observe, they'd learn the whole story.

Morgan listens to his music, headphones on and eyes closed. His music is louder than usual today. On any other day, Reid would probably say that it wasn't actually any louder, that it only seemed that way compared to the inherent lack of sound surrounding all of them. But today is not one of those days.

Though his eyes are closed, and he gives the impression of sleeping, Morgan is very much awake. The music helps to remind him that he is here, and not there. It helps ground him from what happened in his childhood. The music also serves the purpose of drowning out the screams and cries of the children they had saved earlier that day. The children who hadn't been wanted, who had been put up for adoption, who had been placed in the care of a sick son of a bitch who enjoyed hurting them and violating them in the worst way. Who had taken away their positive outlooks on life, taken away their innocence, taken away their smiles and bright eyes. Had taken away everything that made them children.

Morgan turns up his music just a little bit more.

JJ sits across from him. She can't stop remembering the faces. They had been young, too young; and they swim around in her mind, all sixteen of them with their wide eyes and bright smiles. All brimming with innocence; none sad, not yet. She can't help but be reminded of Henry, of her little toddler waiting for his mommy to come home. She shudders, hoping beyond hope that he would never have to suffer what these kids had, because the pictures hadn't quite prepared her for what they had found.

They had been shells of their former shelves. They thought that everyone hated them and that everyone wanted to hurt them. They had accepted it almost as a fact of life, flinching away when she tried to lead them out, crying and begging for them not to hurt them.

And she had reassured them, whispering nothings and rocking them back and forth. It's okay, it's okay. Nobody's going to hurt you ever again. You're safe, and you're loved. She soon realizes that she was whispering it out loud in the jet.

Whispering the words that meant nothing because, with the foster system, who really knew if they were really safe?

Hotch sits in another section of the jet, attempting to finish his paperwork.

The scratching of a pen hasn't been heard for the past hour.

His stoic facade was breaking, and he really didn't care, because all he saw was Jack in those faces. Jack with his missing teeth, who viewed him as a hero. Was he really a hero if he couldn't even save those kids?

Sure, they had taken them away from the unsub (and killed him in the process), but the memories and the trauma would still be there. Shooting the unsub point blank in the head did not change this. He wanted to see their smiles again. He wanted to see them play like innocent little kids again. He wanted them to grow up in a world that wasn't cruel, with people who loved them so much that their hearts almost burst whenever they saw them.

But his wishes would not be granted, because they had been too far broken. Maybe the local police would help coax those smiles back on their faces in a few months, or a few years (regrettably without their help, because the BAU was needed around the country); but he knew that it was a bit late for that. He had known that as soon as Mia, the bright young girl with the pigtails and dimples and pink glasses in the pictures had turned out to be a trembling and fragile little girl with uneven, dirty, and matted hair. With enough scars and bruises covering her cheeks and arms to last a lifetime. With eyes that had lost their innocence and hope and had turned dark with sorrow.

No glasses had been in sight.

Rossi sits next to him, closing his eyes against the memories that threaten to overtake him. He and JJ had found the kids first, shackled to the walls in the basement. The fear in their eyes was very evident; but when Rossi had looked closer at some of the older ones, he found emptiness instead.

They had been trying to calm them down enough to bring them to the ambulances, when Dale had tugged on his sleeve. The little boy couldn't have looked more than nine, but from the files, Rossi knew that he was actually 13. He had begged for Rossi to kill him so he wouldn't have to suffer anymore, had wanted to go to heaven with Sammy (the third kid killed). He hadn't wanted to live anymore.

A 13-year-old shouldn't be able to think this way.

And yet, he had.

Rossi had tried to reassure him that life was worth living, that the world wasn't as cruel as he thought. Some of the children surrounding them (Madeleine, Amie, Cal), had stared at him with a renewed hope in their eyes. The feeling was infectious, and soon most of the other children had begun to accept their help and walk slowly out to the waiting ambulances.

But not Dale. He had truly given up.

Rossi gasps as the memory loses its hold. They'd come back soon enough, though.

Reid sleeps on the couch. Sleeps, only because he had overworked himself during the case; not taking the time to rest and drinking copious amounts of coffee in order to find the kids as soon as possible.

His dreams are not without nightmares, for he twists and turns, muttering under his breath and kicking his blanket to the ground. Normally Hotch would walk over, pick it up, and tuck him in (not mentioning anything when he wakes). But not today. They're all in their own nightmares, even though they're awake.

Reid wonders if this is what could have happened to him, had his mom not protected him. He guesses he'll never really know, but it doesn't stop his subconscious from bringing out all the terrible possibilities.

He had accompanied one of the children, Joy (an irony, for sure), to the hospital. Had watched her as she slept, had read the clipboard detailing all of her injuries. Had hugged and comforted her when she woke up and begged, crying for her mommy (who was currently buried three feet underground, but she didn't need to know that). Reid had never thought of himself as good with children, but the little girl had clung to his shirt with a surprising strength.

They would've stayed for at least a week longer; but other cases awaited, and Strauss was already at her breaking point.

Joy hadn't wanted him to leave, had become attached to him because he was the first person who had actually cared about her in years. At seven years old, he was worth holding onto. So he had gently wiped her tears away, swallowing as he tried to figure out what to do.

Eventually, he settled with a be brave for me, okay? She had nodded and gradually stopped crying, straightening out her back and shoulders ever so slightly.

Doing a bit of a magic trick, he had made a card appear seemingly out of thin air. A card with his name and number on it. He had given it to her, told her to keep it and not lose it. He had smiled faintly at her surprise and reverence towards the piece of paper.

He had broken down as soon as he left the hospital, sobbing into his knees until Hotch had found him after leaving a certain other little girl's hospital room.

Emily's sitting alone, in her own corner of the jet. She's crying quietly, looking out the window at the dark expanse that encompasses them. Her famed compartmentalization skills had evidently not worked this time around.

She wonders if the unsub ever let them go outside, at least for a little bit. She wonders if they ever saw the stars and constellations during their captivity, if these celestial objects had given them any amount of wonder or hope. Had they even seen the sun and felt its warm rays? Or the rainbow after a storm? Maybe the light, fluffy clouds that could be so many different things? That would've allowed them to imagine and escape reality for a little while?

Had they even breathed any fresh air?

And so, Emily paints a picture in her mind, one so vivid that she could almost touch it.

A picture of a place for the nine children they had been too late for. A place with trees that they could climb until they were tired, and a lake that always shown with a bright blue brilliance. A place with fields so vast one would think that they went on forever. A place where the moon smiled at them as they slept on the soft grass, and the sun tickled them with its rays until they woke up and started running around.

A place where they were loved, where they had each other.

Although Emily was never really religious, she believes in this one thing with all her being.

And amidst all of this sadness, that's a happy thought, isn't it?


	26. Code Z - Zip It

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So...the last chapter! One fun, but pretty short one-shot with the OGs. Thank you for reading, and please review!

"Did you know that-"

" _Please_ stop, Reid!" Morgan said in exasperation. "We don't need to hear any more serial killer facts."

"But-"

"Just shut up."

"Ooh...that'd be a good Code S," Elle pointed out.

"Nope. We already have one that I desperately need," JJ commented, walking into the bullpen with a bunch of folders, followed by Hotch and Gideon.

"What do we have now?" Morgan asked with a sigh.

Hotch replied with a curt, "Serial killer targeting families in Iowa. Wheels up in 30."

"Oh! Did you know that 50% of family killers experienced-"

"Zip it," Elle muttered.

"What?"

"You've been bogging us down with facts for the past hour!"

"No, you...that's a perfect Code Z! We finished all the codes!" Reid exclaimed.

"Yay. Now we can use it against you," Morgan pointed out.

"He does have a point. You probably shouldn't have done that," Gideon said, amusement sparkling in his eyes.

"Oh, come on," JJ said, "give him a break. He is a walking computer, after all. All of that knowledge has to go somewhere."

And so they continued, bantering and jabbing at one another until Hotch announced that they had to go. They walked to the elevator together, go bags in hand, and left to save families. Save lives.

Always, as a team.


End file.
